


No reasons for reason

by lamoamadeen



Series: No reasons for reason [1]
Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 14:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamoamadeen/pseuds/lamoamadeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2013, and Kame and Jin fuck in a storage closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No reasons for reason

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haikuesque](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haikuesque/gifts).



> Finally managed a drabble, yay! This is for [haikuesque](http://archiveofourown.org/users/haikuesque/profile) because I'm guilty. They know of what. :P

Jin is wheezing, panting. Just minutes ago, every gulp of air bit into his lungs, a sharp blend of the cleaning supplies that were stacked in neat, poisonous rows. 

The closet smells like sweat now, like fear and greed and acid want, like lube smeared over latex, over Jin's burning skin.

A thrust, and Jin's hand slips on the rack in front of him, knocking over a bottle of bleach. He scrambles for a better hold, to press his nails down until it hurts, to push back into the heat, into the mouth on the nape of his neck. Another thrust, and it hits just right. Jin's elbow buckles on a groan he can't keep in, his shoulder bumping into the shelf above, tumbling another round of spray cans and bottles into disarray.

"Shhh," Kame says, his breath hot against Jin's ear, "shhh," and keeps his hips moving, his hands firm on Jin's hip, on his dick.

Jin shivers, stretches his neck back and to the side, wants that breath and that mouth and that tongue there, right there.

Kame's voice is a whisper, but it burns, as Kame presses forward, as he leans in far enough to slide his cheek along Jin's, shaved skin rasping against his. "You don't want that."

And Jin shakes his head, breathing hard, breathing to stay quiet, keeps shaking his head until Kame's hand comes up to grasp his jaw, stops him with slick fingers that smell of desire. "People will see." 

It's supposed to discourage, probably, Kame's eternal voice of reason. But inside Jin, Kame twitches, swells even more, and the next thrust comes slightly off kilter. 

Jin bares his neck further, licks along Kame's thumb, laps up his own taste. Then he reaches up, into the hair tickling his cheek, and pulls Kame down into an awkward, messy kiss that lasts longer than he intended, heats up so much that Jin nearly forgets the words he's become used to ripping back from the tip of his tongue.

"Maybe I want them to see." 

Kame stills. But he stays silent for once, no voice of reason intruding on them.

Because the truth is, reason is gone, reason is dead, they blew reason to pieces when Kame first pushed his tongue into Jin's mouth weeks ago, when Jin welcomed it in like the last three years never happened, when he spread his legs for Kame's hand to plunge down his pants, when he soiled Kame's cashmere slacks with streaks of white, Kame swallowing groan after groan with lips so hungry Jin had to fight for air, had to kiss them tender and sated and appeased until they'd let him drop down to his knees, to Kame's smell and taste and heat, to a thousand memories that have been simmering in the back of Jin's mind.

Jin's had it with reason.

He rolls his hip back against Kame's, makes him brush along that one throbbing spot that frees high, hitching noises in the back of Jin's throat, noises he knows Kame gets off on, gets lost in, goes crazy over until they both collapse—Kame hisses, here and now, and Jin raises to his toes as Kame gives in, falls on Jin's neck like he's starved and Jin's offering nourishment, and Jin goes dizzy with every lap of his tongue, keens whenever Kame's lips press down hard, finally loses it to the pull of Kame's mouth sucking bruises into his skin. Kame grips him tightly through the shudders, keeps on biting and sucking, and Jin breathes "yes," clenches down tightly one last time, and Kame buries his face in Jin's shoulder, muffles his grunts as he comes.

It takes a while until Jin feels stable enough to unlock his knees without sinking to the ground. He shifts his legs a bit, folds his arms on the shelf in front of him, rests his sweaty forehead on the back of his hands. Doesn't want to move. Kame quietly pulls away, and Jin hears clothes rustle. 

He focuses on breathing, his own and Kame's, erratically in sync, and then on the touch of Kame's hands on his hips, on the careful spread, on the tissue that wipes away the lube cooling on his skin. Then Kame kneels, lets his hands slide down Jin's legs, lingers at his ankles, where the skin is soft and a kiss will give Jin full-bodied shivers, caresses them once, twice, before he pulls up the jeans that have been lying pooled around Jin's feet. He doesn't say anything as he reaches around Jin's waist to closes the button, as he tugs up the zipper.

Then nothing, no touching, but no movement either, no awkward goodbye, no click as the door falls shut. Jin knows exactly what Kame's looking at. He waits for him to freak, and then jerks at the light touch to his throat. A finger trailing slowly over burning skin. Up and down.

"Jin." Kame sounds insecure, like someone took away his strings of steel and told him to fly on his own, when all it really means is he'll smash to the ground. "You can't go home like this. She'll see." And the finger is replaced by the palm of his hand, resting over the bruises as if to hide them. It's warm.

It's always been warm, Kame's hand. A heat to trust, to follow, to never let go.

"She already knows." 

Kame exhales, loud and shaky. 

"Kazuya," Jin says, for the first time in years, and when he turns, Kame is pale, wide-eyed. "I told her, and she won't see it. Because I'm... I'm not going home tonight."

Kame looks panicked, starts to shake his head, so Jin leans in, brushes his lips over Kame's. Once, twice. Jin's hands are trembling, have been since this morning, because this is, perhaps, the most insane thing he has ever done, after all the stunts he has pulled. 

Reason gave him the most precious treasure he can call his own. But reason also took away what he needed most. What made him happy. He takes Kame's hands in his. They're clammy.

"I want to go home with you," Jin says, and twines their fingers, ignores the sweat and the stickiness. "I want to fall asleep in your bed, and I want to stop feeling guilty when I have you, or depressed when I don't. I want us to be together again." 

The air has turned stuffy, and the light bulb overhead flickers with exhaustion. Kame still looks white as a sheet, but there's something growing there, a hesitant determination curling along his jaw, setting in the slant of his eyes. He licks his lips. Then he slowly bends his head, lets out a breath, and presses a kiss to the hickeys on Jin's throat. 

"So let's," he says.


End file.
